Double Fantasy
by LilyBartAndTheOthers
Summary: Will and Karen's wanders, following some of John Lennon's greatest songs.
1. Happy Xmas War Is Over

**Happy Xmas – War Is Over (1971)**

_**So this is Christmas**_

_**And what have you done**_

_**Another year over**_

_**And a new one just begun**_

She should have waited for a few days. Yet Christmas in itself had always been a tough moment but it simply looked worse, now; all broken down. Her disappointment vanishing into frustration, she closed her eyes and clenched her fists for a few seconds but she had obviously kept on staring at it for too long because it was all she had in mind; by consecutive flashes of an odd, cold blue light.

She thought about calling Will to cancel the evening but the perspective of being alone suddenly didn't seem as appealing as it had been once. So with a troubling calm, she put it all in the box and stepped in the shower to draw a line under the few tears that had made their way to her eyes.

What took her aback the most was probably the absence of limousine in front of her building when she went out. She had grown accustomed to it, to the large sidewalks of The Upper East Side and tourists' curious eyes on her as soon as her driver opened the door of her luxurious car. She could have actually gone on with these high maintenance criteria _ financially speaking _ since Stanley had conceded a lot of money in their divorce but for some reason it didn't match with the scene anymore so she hailed cabs or walked, almost like anyone now.

Besides it might have been the best way to turn the page over facts she hadn't really planned in the first place, the best way to accept the idea that she had ceased to be loved by her now ex-husband. Dropped out, forgotten and transparent; the adjectives might have been hard but it was all she had in mind when looking at herself in the large mirror of her new Upper West Side two-bedroom apartment.

She turned on Riverside Drive and put a smile on, automatically because she knew that Will would be waiting for her on the sidewalk in front of his building. Nobody could be sad on Christmas Eve, it was impolite enough, selfish. Her eyes locked with his as she approached slowly, perhaps even a bit timidly. He was talking to the doorman, wearing an elegant coat with a woolen gray scarf.

For a few weeks she had convinced herself that his invitation for Christmas Eve had purely been based on pity for having witnessed rather closely every single step of her divorce from Stanley. How could he have left her alone on such a meaningful evening? But then she had realized that he might have simply tried to escape from a lonely moment as well since Grace and Jack weren't in New York City. Only the very next day he would spend some time with his family _ to whose lunch she had been invited _ so it might have been a matter of circumstances; or the fact he really wanted to be with her, if only for a few hours.

They took by 92nd street and barely talked until the gates of Central Park appeared in the golden light of the evening. The city seemed to have mysteriously quieted down all of a sudden, the usual dense traffic having vanished as the sidewalks had emptied. They followed a few people through one of the paths as the murmurs of conversations seemed to come from the bare trees; the wind playing a lullaby when it caressed the branches.

"I was hoping that we would get some snow."

Hands in the pockets of her coat, she looked down at her feet and swallowed hard. The weather seemed to have changed a couple of days earlier, a chilling breeze bringing up the smell of snow flakes but the sky had curiously remained blue and clear. It might have actually been too cold for some snow over the city.

"I hate snow."

An uncomfortable laugh accompanied her remark that she immediately regretted but panic spreading over her mind, she lacked time to find another topic offering thus to Will the opportunity to ask for the kind of questions she dreaded.

"How come? There is nothing more beautiful than a landscape covered of snow."

The music starting to play saved her from a delicate moment and just as they arrived to the bandstand, the chorus gave in the first song. Fairy lights had been installed in the trees surrounded the square in a rainbow of electric shades while a dozen of rows _ plastic chairs _ were facing the little stage. Quietly they found two seats and settled down there as the children from the school of music of Brooklyn were now in full swing.

As if called by the music, the snow began to fall and her relaxed smile suddenly froze. She frowned, bit the inside of her mouth and swallowed hard as a well-known pain reached her heart.

Another year of failures was ending, leaving her among a series of bitter conclusions from which she seemed to drown. Stanley had gone away with someone else, putting an end to their marriage with such abruptness she still felt it pound against her chest.

Then there was her pregnancy test, another failed attempt to hold back hopes over a relationship she did not want to see over. She should have waited for a few days instead of taking it that evening, knowing that anyway, it would be negative.

She simply couldn't have helped it, in spite of the fact that Christmas had always brought to her harsh memories. And it wouldn't change this year, obviously.

A single tear escaped, rolling down her cheek.


	2. Life Begins at 40

**Life Begins at 40 (1980)**

_**They say life begins at forty**_

_**Age is just a state of mind**_

_**If all that's true**_

_**You know, I've been dead at thirty-nine**_

The lights embraced the snow in a red shade of ice, making it all glimmer like a thousand rubies over a pale sky. With a barely contained smile, she pushed the door of the restaurant and came in. The smell of duck _à l'orange _accompanied the murmurs of the conversations that seemed to float upon some delicate music playing in the background. Nothing had changed since the previous year, not even the layout of the room and that was what she liked the most about this place. Its timelessness brought up a reassuring side that her broken life quietly required to avoid a definitive downfall.

This evening in Chinatown might have been the highlight of January, each year she carefully chose to arrive late mainly to let them think that she didn't really care. Not in a mean attempt but simply because the transparency of her sentiments always led to vulnerability and she hated it, anticipating the pain that such a mistake always carried along. That was why she preferred to pretend, to bare the weight of some mask and nobody seemed to find it odd at the end.

Stanley had sent her a greeting card, written down by his assistant as he used to do for his clients. A bit disarmed she had stared at it for long minutes before finally tearing it up in pieces then observing with a restrained pleasure the little squares of paper vanishing into smoke as she had burnt it down. The last fragment to get reduced to ashes had been his signature, darkening little by little until nothing but some gray dust of paper had remained. And too bitter to cry, she had simply poured herself a glass of wine.

Once in a while, she wondered what her life would have looked like if she hadn't met them; if Jack had not brought up his unusual sweetness, Grace her genuine presence or Will this impressive strength that his behavior always emphasized. The lines remained blurry but she still came to the conclusion that she would have felt extremely lonely, and fragile. Without her friends, Karen lost all of a sudden any reason to keep on living.

Like every year, they made fun of some clumsy waiter and laughed until tears welled up in their eyes before Jack's face as he gulped down his sake shot at the end of the meal. It seemed that for a couple of hours, the four of them managed to put it all aside and the world felt light, oddly bearable if not almost appealing. But it was a bittersweet sensation, a pernicious one that softly bewitched you and waited for you to be weak enough to let reality hit you back harshly. It hurt then. It hurt a lot even behind the fog that sake had spread over your mind.

When she gave her address to the cab driver, she realized that the return to life would be a lot tougher this year. Nobody would be waiting for her at home. The Midtown skylines wouldn't glimmer through her French windows and her bed would result cold.

That must be why she didn't protest when Will decided to bring her back to her place. Anyway he only lived a few blocks away down Riverside.

She couldn't say that they had got closer since her divorce with Stanley or since that Christmas Eve they had spent together but their respective opinion on each other had obviously softened and if they kept on arguing in front of the others, their relation had become a lot sweeter when left alone. They had a lot in common, perhaps a lot more than what they accepted to recognize.

Abandoning the keys on a table by the door _ over a pile of magazine and unopened mails _ she headed to the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine then poured some in two glasses. Nobody ever really stopped by her place, probably because she hadn't bothered to install the slightest thing.

Cardboard boxes were still littering the hardwood floor while books and clothes had been haphazardly left on chairs; the couch covered by a dozen of scarves. A sentiment of uneasiness oppressed you and it felt like anything but home; just an impersonal place where you came back at night to get some sleep. It was a lifeless area, just like her mind.

"So here you enter a new decade..."

"I know how old I am. Though, thank you for not having said it out loud tonight."

With her divorce she had been forced to reveal a few details to Will that she didn't like, starting with this one: her age. A few years before she had imagined that at forty years old, she would have reached it all from a happy marriage to a family of her own but there she was all of a sudden, bare and alone. Anxious, she stood up and lit a cigarette then went to lean against a window. The street below was in the dark, empty and quiet.

"Look at you in the mirror. You shouldn't be ashamed of yourself. On the contrary... Well... It is late so I should go now. Happy birthday, Karen."

The kiss he planted on her cheek left her completely disarmed and it is without a word that she looked at him go away, holding tight in her hand a last-minute present he had just given her; the gesture almost coming from nowhere. It took her long seconds before she actually landed an eye on it but succumbing to an inevitable impatience, she unwrapped it quickly.

The children of the school of music of Brooklyn had released the album of all the holidays songs they had performed at the concert in Central Park, the one that she had attended with Will on Christmas Eve when her life had seemed to really fall down into pieces.

She listened to it until she drifted off to sleep, rocked by the purity of the voices and a wave of pictures of that singular yet unforgettable evening spent with Will.


	3. I Found Out

**I Found Out (1970)**

_**Now that I showed you what I been through**_

_**Don't take nobody's word what you can do**_

_**There ain't no Jesus gonna come from the sky**_

_**Now that I found out I know I can cry**_

Everything stopped abruptly as she found herself in the long and blank hallway. All of a sudden, she let Jack run down to the right door and looked _ petrified _ what her previous rush seemed to have hidden until then. It was the smell and the beeps of the machines; how people kept on whispering like ghosts while cries pierced in the background, once in a while and from very far as if the pain had been stifled to avoid panic. It had nothing to do with a whim of some sort. She knew hospitals too well and that was all.

Realizing he had been left alone, Jack stopped and turned around before staring at her incredulously. It wasn't her fault if the fear paralyzed her in the middle of the hallway, emptying her lungs from the vital air she needed to properly breathe and not pass out.

"What are you doing?"

"Just go, honey. I will join you all in a second."

As Jack disappeared behind a door, she turned on her heels only to notice how her legs were violently shaking. She needed fresh air, a seat and a glass of water if not just a new brain that would delete any kind of memories from her mind. Her unsteady steps nonetheless led her to the cafeteria. She crossed it, pushed the door of the terrace that overlooked Midtown and sat on a chair.

Nobody else was outside. The chilly wind of February tended to go underneath your skin before a wave of ice slowly embraced your blood and made you freeze.

Trying to concentrate on a building opposite the avenue, she kept on swallowing hard but the sensation wouldn't go away. It was there, heavy on her chest; oppressing on her mind. The taste of blood pushed her to realize that she had bitten the inside of her mouth with strength and instinctively she passed her tongue over the injury, sobbing quietly.

"What the hell are you doing here? Jack told me that you had mysteriously backed off."

At the sound of his voice, she turned around and stared at him in disbelief; taken aback by his presence out on the roof of the building. She was about to ask him the reason why he was standing by her side when she noticed the coffee he had in hand. Obviously he had been buying it at the cafeteria when he had seen her outside, alone among a dozen of plastic chairs.

"Nothing special."

But her voice betrayed the uneasiness that had spread over her body and resigned, she looked at Will as he sat down by her side. He seemed perplexed but not disarmed or if he were then he did his best not to show it either. He probably noticed the red shade of her eyes because he suddenly pressed her hand in a warm, gentle gesture.

"Hey... Grace is going to be alright. She just hit her head when falling down but there is nothing to be worried about. It is only a minor concussion and a bruise on her forehead. She is okay, now."

"I don't like hospitals..."

The confession stirred up a wave of embarrassment and she stared at her feet in the hope that she would escape from his own gaze.

"Nobody does."

"No, you don't understand. It is different for me. I..."

The tears suddenly welled up in her eyes. She looked up at the sky in an attempt to swallow them back but one of them began to slide along her cheek, coming to die in the corner of her lips.

"My father died on Christmas day, in the morning. A cancer. I was only seven but obviously old enough to keep it all in mind. It took the disease a long time before he passed away and for months we headed to the hospital on a daily basis to visit him. This is how I remember him, the only image I have kept of him. Lay down in a bed with a dozen tubes connected to his veins. His skin was transparent and he was way too fragile, had lost a lot of weight. And I didn't understand because it didn't match this paternal figure we all have in mind, so strong and immortal. Mine didn't look old but incredibly tired and not that alive anymore... I didn't understand why my dad was different from all the other ones. And then he died. That's why I hate Christmas. And that's why I hate hospitals so much."

Perhaps if she hadn't locked her eyes with his, she would have just shrugged away her confession and smiled but the sudden contact caused the exact opposite and she broke down into tears. She accepted his arms, in silence as her cries kept on submerging her strongly.

Once calmed down she followed Will down the hallway and together they came in their friend's bedroom. It is only at the end of the visit schedule that they learned Grace would be released the next morning. Jack had already left to get prepared for a date so they headed back to her place, drank a bottle of wine while watching an old movie in black and white and it is only when she woke up in the middle of the night _ under the blanket _ that she realized she had probably fallen asleep on the couch and Will had carried her to the bed though he hadn't gone away. He was there, sleeping by her side.

Serene, she closed her eyes.


	4. Now and Then

**Now and Then (1979)**

_**I know it's true, it's all because of you**_

_**And if I make it through, it's all because of you**_

_**And now and then, if we must start again**_

_**Well we were not sure, that I love you**_

"Why does your pillow smell of Will?"

The question troubled her. Bottle of nail varnish in hand, she looked up and stared at the wall in front of her; taken aback, embarrassed. Jack misunderstood her silence and she felt how he suddenly sat up then approached her.

"You two had sex, together?"

As much as her cheeks turned into a bright red, she still found the strength to lock her eyes with Jack's ones before shaking her head with some sort of soft exasperation letting him guess about the stupidity of his question. It worked out though didn't ease his curiosity ever.

"Then what is it?"

She wouldn't escape from it. Even if the phone suddenly rang, she knew that Jack would wait, eager to get some more details over an incongruous fact. Resigned, she put the nail varnish bottle down slowly, to win some time, then shrugged as she realized that the words wouldn't come out easily.

"He spent the night over a few weeks ago. We watched a movie, I fell asleep on the couch and since I... I hadn't been feeling very well _ a little down _ he decided to stay. That's it. We didn't have sex but still shared my bed because there is only one here. It was all platonic. Of course, it was."

The silence that followed her awkward but nonetheless sincere confession plunged her in some heavy discomfort and she looked aside immediately to avoid her friend's gaze. She hated it, how vulnerable it made her sound all of a sudden; how ridiculously fragile. And what she dreaded the most happened as Jack grabbed her hand then pressed it tightly.

"Karen, it is okay to feel down but please remember that if you do then I am also here for you. Talk to me... You know that you can rely on me."

For a couple of seconds that seemed to last an eternity, she stared at her hand and how tiny her fingers looked between his. The gesture owned a peculiar beauty but it was too sentimental to ever accept it. So she swept it all away with an implacable smile; jumped off her bed.

"Let's get some coffee, won't we, honey?"

At the beginning, she had wondered why Will kept on avoiding any talk related to that night but then she had understood his silence. There was nothing to add, nothing to analyze. They had simply shared a bed once in their life, at a moment when she had felt rather down. The very next day he had left for his own place and they now saw each other from time to time; over a lunch, an evening out.

On a Sunday he had stopped by her apartment and together they had finally got rid of all the cardboard boxes, installed everything. She would have never found the courage to do so by herself, alone. Will's presence owned a singular strength she needed to go on and that was why she gave so much importance to their relation now.

…

The wind was strong and the sky gray. The weather forecast had announced a last episode of snow but the flakes hadn't showed up yet at the end of the day. Very soon March would take away the ruins of an old winter and spread over the city the premises of a warmer season. Holding tightly her large cup of tea, she huddled and kept on walking through the paths. It had been a while since she had gone back to Central Park, observed the trees and the colors fading away in a rainbow of different shades. She had spent so much time leaned against one of the windows of her Upper East Side penthouse doing so that a sentiment of betrayal invaded her suddenly and she sped up her pace.

The bandstand was empty, the place rather quiet apart from a few passers-by walking around. After a quick study of the area and noticing his absence, she went to sit down on a bench and kept on sipping her hot drink; the beverage burning her tongue every time she made contact with the tea.

Ten minutes later Will arrived on her left and breathless, he shook his head apologetically.

"I am sorry, I am late. A last-minute call at the office... Anyway, do you remember this place?"

"Of course, I do. Though today it is rather quiet."

"But you have found back your smile and it is the most important at the end."

She wanted to reply but an icy sensation on her hand prevented her from doing so. She looked down in time to see a snow flake melt against her skin and within a few seconds, it was snowing.

It had snowed on Christmas Eve as well. She remembered it. But days looked brighter now, still a bit unsteady and odd maybe though they seemed to carry along a softness she had missed out for so long. And she owed this to him.

Her smile froze as he grabbed her hands to make her stand on her feet. Surprised she followed his quiet request and was about to thank him properly when he winked, turning thus the page over something she had a hard time to deal with; knowing perfectly that she wasn't good at expressing her feelings.

"Spin around, Kare!"

"What?"

But all of a sudden he dragged her in an improvised spin and she held his hands tight, laughing hard. It was completely stupid _ a ridiculous gesture _ but she loved it, for whatever reason. The landscape got reduced to a fusion of colors as they sped up their pace and very soon she closed her eyes, abandoning herself to his arms.

He stopped and she bumped into him, locking her eyes with his. Snow flakes were getting lost in his hair, glimmering like a thousand diamonds; his short breath coming by warm waves on her face. She smiled at him, swallowed hard and for the first time in her life decided to listen to her heart over her mind.

She kissed him, the warmth of his flesh getting mixed with the iciness of the snow flakes on their lips.


	5. Jealous Guy

**Jealous Guy (1971)**

_**I didn't mean to hurt you**_

_**I'm sorry that I made you cry**_

_**Oh no, I didn't want to hurt you**_

_**I'm just a jealous guy**_

Before her silence, she looked how Grace's smile vanished into disappointment before anger won over and all of a sudden she began to panic; her heart beating faster, her mouth getting dry. She needed those words that would put an end to the slight discomfort her friend's question had stirred up but they were trapped somewhere in her blurry mind and she remained there, completely blank.

She didn't want to date anyone, wasn't interested in it. Not that she wouldn't have turned the page over Stanley _ she did miss him, from time to time _ but because whenever she thought about the idea, the only person she pictured out was Will.

She had kissed him. For most of people who had met her at some point, they would have analyzed the gesture as insignificant but the truth was that she didn't throw herself in someone else's arms with such sincerity very often. She was too coward for that. They had shared a meal at some Midtown restaurant, hailed a cab but when they had arrived to her place, he had simply wished her a good night then stayed in the car as it had driven away back to Riverside Drive.

As if nothing had happened and life would have gone on, just like that.

"You haven't even met him. How can you say no?"

Grace's insistence made her roll her eyes. She turned around on her chair _ looking for some detail to focus on _ but since the coffee store was empty, resigned, she looked back at her friend.

She felt lonely and confused, a bit lost. Something ached inside but she didn't manage to put a name on it, barely a reason why the pain kept on spreading over like that. It was a dead-end path and obviously, she was trapped in it.

"Alright, give me his number. I will call him. What is his name, again?"

She didn't like Grace's smile of victory because it didn't seem right and she felt awkward about it, a bit betraying somehow. There was no honesty in her abdication, just a motion of resignation that wouldn't lead to nowhere but failures.

"His name is Matthew. He is an architect, a very good one."

…

Electricity was in the air but she felt in the way, too far from Jack's excitement or Grace's exhilaration. She tried to avoid Will's gaze but his silence was too loud _ too heavy _ and it brought up pain to her heart.

When the world seemed to darken dangerously, she found in nicotine the addiction that would keep her away from the oppressive reality and she smoked a cigarette after another barely noticing the taste, the smell. A drink in hand and a couple of pills helped as well though after a while, it had failed with Stan.

Matthew would pick her up within a few minutes now and as much as she should have been wondering a thousand questions about him, she didn't care at all; had no curiosity whatsoever about him. All she knew was that he was an old friend of Grace that she had met back at some conference about interior design a few weeks earlier in Chelsea. He had just got a divorce so logically enough, their two failed lives couldn't but match to the eyes of people who had never experienced the withdraws of union vows.

"Why don't you put on your Prada's, tonight? With this dress, they will make your ankles look just the way perfection is supposed to be."

Following Jack's remark, her hazel eyes stared at her feet and she observed her ankles a bit blankly. She had never particularly liked them _ thinking they looked rather thick _ and that was why she wore high heels most of the time. They brought a feminine side to her legs that she cruelly lacked.

"If you say so... I don't know. Why not the Louboutin's? The red sole matches my top."

Nicotine reached her lungs. She took a sip of vodka and swallowed hard as the alcohol burnt her throat. She felt tipsy which hadn't happened in a while, a very long while.

"What do you think, Will? Louboutin or Prada?"

She jumped at the sound of his name but pretended that Jack's question hadn't troubled her the slightest. Nervously enough, she took another sip of her drink and tried to ignore the way her heart was beating loud against her chest.

He had sat down on an armchair by the fireplace and had been leafing through a magazine all along the process of getting her ready for what was defined as her first date. Very slowly he looked up and locked his eyes with hers in the mirror _ seemed to hesitate for a moment _ but finally shrugged.

"Whatever, vulgarity will still meet ridiculousness as long as she tries to look a lot younger than what she really is. But with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, I am sure she will make more money working him than in the street being a common whore."

For Jack and Grace, the remark followed the lines of their teasing game but for her, it simply ruined the entire evening. Will had been harsh and the words had hit her heart with a barely contained violence. If she had been alone, she would have burst into cries _ wondering why he had had to say such thing after she had found the courage to kiss him _ but her date had arrived and within a few minutes, she had had to leave with a complete stranger for some dinner in Manhattan.

She passed the door of her apartment around midnight, alone. Not bothering to turn the lights on, she headed to her bedroom _ took her clothes off _ and slid under the blanket before staring intently at the ceiling in the dark. Her cell phone vibrated in her bag, breaking down the silence of the place. Certain it was from Matthew, she barely looked at the screen until the name of "Will" appeared on it brightly.

She opened the message, read it.

_I didn't mean to say that_

_Please, accept my apologies_


	6. Stand by Me

**Stand by Me (1975)**

_**If the sky that we look upon**_

_**Should tumble and fall**_

_**And the mountain should crumble to the sea**_

_**I won't cry, I won't cry**_

_**No, I won't shed a tear**_

_**Just as long as you stand, stand by me**_

The photo slid off the book as a feather would caress the air before landing softly on the floor in a quiet motion, delicately. The only difference was that it brought along heavy, dark memories. Abandoning on the shelf a pencil she was holding, she bent over to pick up the picture. She hadn't forgotten about it, simply put it in a blurry corner of her mind where it wouldn't bother anyone anymore for quite a long time.

"Who is it?"

"Me..."

She didn't break eye-contact with the photo to look up at Will but kept on observing the slightest detail on a piece of paper that the passing of the years had embraced in a shade of some pale yellow. With her fingertip she followed the lines of a younger face, a body deprived of the curves she had learned to live with now. She stopped on the eyes that seemed to look at the photographer rather blankly, with a surge of sadness perhaps. Whatever it was, the contrast with the innocence of her youth was sharp.

"Was it taken in San Francisco?"

She rolled her eyes before his comment then shook her head with a false exasperation, smiled at him.

"There were hippies in New York as well. Don't you see Columbia in the background? This picture was taken only a few blocks away from here, many years ago though. And everything has changed, now."

The bitterness of her last sentence floated in the air for a long while and as she felt it oppress her mind, Karen slid the picture back among the pages of the book it had escaped from, as if in a vain attempt to get rid of her past once and for all. Will didn't insist when she wished he had, and pushed her to confess a couple of things just the way they used to before the date she had had with Matthew. It had put some distance between them _ probably led by the harshness of his regretful comment _ and even if they still spent some time together, the complicity they had built after her divorce seemed to slowly break down into pieces.

"Do you want a drink? I do, I am thirsty."

For the hundredth time she swallowed back the uneasiness that the silence had spread over their heads and she went straight to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. She had drunk a lot lately, not that she would have noticed it but the empty bottles were all lined up against the wall waiting to be taken to the trash. Seen like that, her life looked bare and sad. Instinctively she grabbed her pack of cigarettes to take one off except none was left anymore. She sighed, exasperated, and began to bite her nails instead.

If it was to remain quiet like this, she preferred him to leave.

"How about a lunch at The Russian Tea Room tomorrow? I haven't gone there in a while."

"I can't, I have an appointment for a manicure at Barney's."

"Then for dinner, maybe."

"I can't either. I am sorry."

His eyes landed on her with perplexity and she regretted her reply immediately. She should have found a lie, let him believe that she needed to rest and wanted to spend the evening alone, here at her place.

"Are you seeing someone?"

The last sip of her glass of wine resulted bitter. She frowned then paced the room pretending to look for something.

"Mat..."

"You call him 'Mat', now?"

Perhaps her absent-mindedness on their first date had stirred up a wave of guilt and that was why she had accepted another evening with the architect. He was a nice man, smart and attentive. He deserved this second chance, even though she would still carry on a few regrets.

"Fine, forget about The Russian Tea Room then. I am definitely not part of your plans and my presence here just screws it all up. Bye."

With an obvious anger, Will grabbed his coat and headed to the door of her apartment. But if she hadn't said anything the last time, she suddenly let the words come out; tired to pretend, perhaps. It hurt to see him go away like that, taking more and more distance from her as the days were passing by.

"What is wrong with you?"

"I don't want you to date anyone!"

"You don't make sense, Will. All along you told me that I needed to turn the page over Stanley and this is what I am doing now. You should be happy that I am finally accepting the idea that the man who had sworn to me his fidelity for the rest of his life has actually forgotten me. And ceased to love me..."

"I don't like you seeing Matthew."

His anger seemed to have suddenly vanished into an embarrassing confession, sweeping away his usual self-confidence. He looked aside, shrugging to nothing in particular. And in an odd parallelism, she found the strength to be honest.

"Don't you understand that if I was planning to date someone _ like Matthew _ I wouldn't have kissed you?"

Her eyes landed on a pack of cigarettes that she hadn't opened yet. She grabbed it but didn't take any, simply began to nervously play with it.

"You didn't let me a lot of choices, Will. I made a step towards you, an awkward one perhaps but still... Though you went away. You went away from me. You do it constantly and it kills me because... I am nothing without you. I need you by my side so you can prevent me from falling down. I don't care about Matthew. It is all about you."


	7. Remember

**Remember (1970)**

_**Always, always playing a part**_

_**If you ever feel so sad**_

_**And the whole world is driving you mad**_

_**Remember, remember, today**_

He had left. Within five seconds she had told him a lot more than what she had confessed during most of her life and yet he hadn't stayed, hadn't replied. His eyes fixed on the floor, he had simply gone away in an invisible motion of apologies.

She had felt like crying but the tears hadn't come out, not even brushed the corner of her eyes. Alcohol had softened it all, plunging her painful disappointment into a blurry world of ephemeral regrets before she had finally passed out, exhausted by a constant downfall. Men had always been like that, rejecting her timid advances for lacking strength. They didn't mind about sincerity but simply couldn't stand the idea of a fragile self-confidence if she were to make the first step. It explained the reason why most of the times she ended up being controlled, chosen instead of choosing and the strategy kept on failing in spite of her efforts; after a while.

A child's voice pierced in the background, somewhere in between laughter and cries. Sat on the wooden bench, she didn't turn around to observe the scene and preferred to remain concentrated on the painting instead. After all she had come just for it, braving the wind and the rain; not even calling Grace to say that she wouldn't show up at the office that day. She needed peace and silence, a work of introspection that was only found in museums; and the depths of the colors on the immense canvas, taking her away from the harshness of her life.

Her first husband used to own a painting by Rothko. Hung in the library, she had spent many hours just sitting there observing it; nourishing herself of the strength that seemed to escape from it. From then on she had decided to study History of Art but the life of socialites didn't match some university scheme so she had had to do it all by herself, reading thousand of books about modern, contemporary art.

But her husband had died and literally drowning under his debts, she had had no choice but to sell his paintings. A little while after, she had begun to give money to museums and art places; galleries, young artists. In a complete anonymity to preserve her relation to artistic creations from the abruptness of an unbearable world.

"Rothko?"

"_Four Darks in Red_, 1958. Oil on canvas..."

She let him sit down by her side _ following the movement from the corner of her eyes all along _ but swallowed hard as she felt him so close to her. She was angry at him, disillusioned as well perhaps. He had hurt her, and more than once.

"Stanley told me that I would find you here."

Bitterly amused, she raised an eyebrow and shrugged; tried to concentrate back on the painting instead of letting those tough sensations take possession of her heart.

"What can I say? He might have known me rather well in the end..."

Silence took away her remark until she heard him sigh, clear his voice. Instinctively she clenched her fists and bit the inside of her mouth to restrain the anger boiling in her lower stomach. He was ruining everything, even those intimate rituals that made of her sphere something personal.

"Karen..."

"Not here. We don't go to museums to speak, Will."

But as she turned around to look at him, her gasp of surprise came to die against his lips as he bent over and they kissed. They would have been outside in the cacophony of the streets, she would have slapped him but respectful of the quiet place _ and lacking courage too, obviously _ she let him do then simply frowned as he broke apart. Her gaze was probably cold, not that confused anymore and she swallowed back yells of frustration, of incomprehension and pain.

"Who do you think you are to kiss me like that?"

She had lost her concentration and a mere look at the painting resulted enough to confirm the failure of her introspection. She stood up and left the room without waiting for him. She didn't want to talk, even less hear his voice and a series of arguments he had probably worked on. The daylight piercing through the large windows blinded her and she looked down at the floor to avoid blinking too much. Will was by her side, his shadow embracing hers with an odd delicacy on the marble tiles.

"I am scared to death of what it would imply but I can't help loving when you are in my arms. I wasn't taking my time, just being coward. And I am not good when it all turns upside down."

Even his voice sounded fragile now, on the verge of breaking down. She stopped, in the middle of the long corridor, and looked how the trees were moving under the rain outside. The branches might have seemed weak but they nonetheless remained intact in spite of the wind. Perhaps they were just like this at the end, Will and her; embraced by fragile appearances and yet stronger than what they pretended. It made her frown, confused and a bit blank; still touched by his confidence.

"Is it too late for a second chance, Karen?"

A group of Japanese tourists stepped out of a room and headed down the corridor. Hands in the pockets of her coat, she looked at them go away slowly before finally daring a gaze at Will. She shook her head a bit distressed.

"I don't know anything anymore... Like why I have kissed you in the first place or why I have told you all these things yesterday. I... It is all blurry in my head, not making the slightest sense and yet it gives me so much pain when you aren't there."

Perhaps someone else showed up in the corridor _ heading from one room to another _ but the truth is that she didn't notice any presence, at no moment. It all turned out to be about Will, how his fingertips suddenly brushed her cheek and the timid smile that he left on her lips as they kissed. The past and the future vanished when she closed her eyes and decided instead to concentrate on the moment being.


	8. Whatever Gets You Through the Night

**Whatever Gets You Through the Night (1974)**

_**Hold me darlin' come on listen to me**_

_**I won't do you no harm**_

_**Trust me darlin' come on listen to me, come on listen to me**_

_**Come on listen, listen**_

What she liked the most was the regularity with which his chest moved up and down, as if rocked by a constant wave of heartbeats. The motion was sweet, calm and relaxing; rather addicting at the end. She had settled there one night _ invaded by doubts and wonders _ then had found out about the quietness of it, how she drifted off to sleep easily, her head against his chest, close to his heart.

Her leg between his and a hand on his lower stomach, the position seemed to emphasize a sentiment of possession towards his own body though she preferred to see it as a sort of shield, something protective she would need to feel fine. And when he began to caress her hair softly, she succumbed to the honesty of a bright smile; her eyes closed through the night.

"What are you thinking about?"

His voice resounded loud against his chest. Instinctively she planted a kiss there _ on his skin _ before focusing on a green plant in the corner of her bedroom. The shadows of the candle got reflected on it in an odd, sensual dance; an intimate light over the anonymity of their night.

"Everything and nothing at the same time... The day you found me at The Whitney Museum, the day I met you for the first time... All these things that define the peculiarity of my life."

It had only been three weeks since they had gone back to her place after their singular face-to-face in the middle of a hallway but it yet belonged to the past. The awkwardness of the first time, the timidity showing up in their eyes before a sudden intimacy had slowly disappeared to melt into a series of some evident facts as if it were all responding to a mere logic somehow.

It brought nostalgia all along not that she now knew him by heart but her cheeks didn't redden anymore if she looked at him in the most intimate moments.

"If life was bare and monotone, it wouldn't be as addicting."

He spent the night over once a week, only a few hours that all of a sudden took a whole different shade as she found back the warmth of his body against hers. They didn't lie about anything, didn't hide what they were living but simply didn't mention it to anyone or at least it was how they wanted to see things, no mattered how coward it could be.

"I hate addicting things."

"It is okay if you can't control everything."

She swallowed hard his remark and the veracity that emanated from it, highlighting thus her very own fragility. Not being in control wasn't a fear but a phobia that strongly made her panic. It wasn't a whim, she had always been like that even as a child. It had to do with her temper, the difficulties she had when dealing with her insecurities. It hit her hard every time.

"And you, what are you thinking about?"

But she didn't let him time to reply, turned around instead and straddled him before locking her eyes in his. Her smile brushed his lips as she felt his hands settle on her lower back. Her fingertip followed his jaw and she shrugged, amused.

"I don't need an answer, I guess I know what you have in mind right now."

The few men who had had the chance to share her life had always been surprised by her behavior when she was not in public. There were no harsh words by then, no sarcastic remark. She loved cuddling and planting kisses on their skin, being sweet and attentive. The fury of her persona seemed to vanish once she closed the door behind and succumbed to her partners' arms. Some of them had found the contrast very odd when others had simply ignored it quietly. She would probably never have the courage to ask him but sometimes she wondered what Will thought about it.

Drawing invisible paths of kisses on his body, she led it all until something happened in her head and she felt vulnerable all of a sudden. It was the same every time, even at the beginning when his lack of experience with women had logically pushed her to assume that she should be the one to dominate their embrace. She hadn't been able to do that, for a reason she couldn't explain. She needed Will's arms and the warmth of his chest on hers. Wrapped up against him, under him, she felt secure and could finally succumb to the pleasure of their caresses.

He left in the morning before she woke up. He always did, as if he preferred to avoid the coldness of a situation they might have not been assuming that well in spite of what they said. Only couples could do that _ have breakfast together then spend the first hours of the day cuddled in each other's arms _ and they were not dating. They were not involved into a relationship. It was all blurry, yet sweet.

She didn't mind that much, actually. Perhaps it was exactly what she needed, a complete lack of heavy commitments that she had focused on for too many years before. As long as she could drift off to sleep against him and be haunted by his kisses the next day, then the rest didn't matter.

She felt okay like that, finally forgetting Stanley.


	9. Borrowed Time

**Borrowed Time (1980)**

_**When I was younger**_

_**Full of ideas and broken dreams**_

_**When I was younger**_

_**Everything simple but not so clear**_

_**Living on borrowed time**_

_**Without a thought for tomorrow**_

It was all in the delicacy of the gesture, a subtle firmness of the wrist when following the curves of the eyelids. The result was immediate, brought a feminine sensuality to her gaze that even years of practice didn't seem to reduce to a mere routine. She always took her time then, observing the image sent back by the mirror and how a simple black eyeliner could change a face so much.

"If I were a woman, I would like to be just like you."

Jack's remark made her blush. She hid the bright color on her cheeks behind some powder, then smiled at him in return. As soon as she had been old enough to use makeup, she had meticulously studied the photos of models in magazines and tried to reproduce it on her own face. If she had firstly thought that a red lipstick and some mascara would bring her the self-confidence she was desperately lacking, it had appeared that if it didn't, makeup still provided an interesting shield. It was easier to play the role of the perfect woman then. As a matter of fact, it came up instinctively as she replaced her glasses by contact lenses and applied eyeliner with this ounce of subtlety.

"Sometimes I wonder how it is to be you, what kind of behavior you adopt when nobody is looking at you."

"Honey, there is always someone who looks at me."

But as her friend rolled his eyes in a gesture of fake exasperation, she abandoned the lightness of their conversation and shrugged. She didn't like when Jack wanted to be serious. It wasn't the way they had planned, even if just implicitly. She might have been trusting him enough to confess a few things but it didn't come up easily. He was her entertaining card _ her getaway when life was too hard _ so if all of a sudden he wanted to have a serious discussion, their whole balance fell down within a second.

"If I were as interesting in the intimacy as I am in public then you would have been the first one to see it. Believe me, it isn't worth it. Keep your fantasies alive, honey. They will always be better than reality, that you can trust me."

"I disagree. You might appear different when not in public but definitely not uninteresting. Now maybe I should ask about that to the person you are dating..."

Her heart suddenly started beating faster against her chest and she swallowed hard succumbing to some strong panic. With shaking hands she put down the eyeliner on her desk and looked at Jack properly, a bit perplexed. Her reaction amused him obviously as he let a wave of laughter escape.

"Between your weekly evenings when you can't see any of us and the way you have been smiling lately it doesn't take that much to understand that you have met someone. And now there are these earrings... You wouldn't buy jewels for yourself. They are new ones yet I know that they don't come from Stan."

Instinctively she brought her hand to her ear and brushed the emeralds Will had offered her a few days before. There had been no particular reason _ nothing to celebrate _ but simply the idea that the gems would be a graceful acolyte to her gaze or at least that was what he had told her when she had opened the box from Tiffany's.

"What are you talking about, guys?"

Grace stepped in the office a bagel in hand, rather curious before the odd and silent face-to-face of her two friends. Balancing his feet in the air _ sat up on Grace's desk _ Jack giggled then shook his head in delight.

"I was wondering how Karen could be in private. You know, how she behaves with her new lover..."

"Oh that... I have to confess that I often wonder how she can be like."

Obviously in a light mood, Grace sat up on her desk next to Jack and stared at Karen who had suddenly turned very pale. She hated talking about her very own persona, mostly because she was boring if not pointless. It seemed logical, didn't it? Because if she weren't, she wouldn't have divorced so many times around.

"Get a life!"

She shouldn't have been on the defensive because it only increased her friends' amusement before her unusual discomfort. Though against all expectations, they didn't really insist. Grace grabbed a couple of sketches, looked at them.

"We don't care if you are actually timid or whatever... If he can bring you hopes and desires to build a brand new future then it is okay for us. As long as you are happy..."

Jack nodded, stood up and planted a kiss on her cheek before leaving the office. The phone rang, Grace took the call and all of a sudden she found herself lonely in the room; staring at her friend blankly. She thought about the words that had just been said, all the things they implied. Very soon her mind decided to compare them to the image of Will and she arrived to a dead-end path. They never talked about any future but it might be better like that. For most of her life she had planned everything only to see it all crash and the truth was that now _ without trying to stick to some dreams _ she felt fine.

Except when she looked at Grace and Jack. Then betrayal showed up, along with the bitterness of lies.


	10. Crippled Inside

**Crippled Inside (1971)**

_**You wear a mask and paint your face**_

_**You can call yourself the human race**_

_**You can wear a collar and a tie**_

_**But the one thing you can't hide**_

_**Is when you're crippled inside**_

His lips brushed her nape in a kiss and she closed her eyes as if to fully appreciate the intimate gesture. It made her smile but taken away by a wave of timidity she looked down at her lap and remained quiet. Her cheeks were burning while something was boiling in her lower stomach, a few butterflies perhaps. She held her breath as his hands grabbed her waist from behind and he leaned his chin on her shoulder. Looking for strong and confident men, she had always gone towards the same type until Will who was the exact opposite; sweet and attentive. After so many failures, she began to wonder if she hadn't been wrong since the very beginning and had been in search of mismatched models. Everything sounded so easy and simple all of a sudden, logical enough. She liked being by Will's side.

"One day I would like to buy a brownstone somewhere in Manhattan. I would have my backyard and a few vegetables, there. And a cat, I have always wanted to have a cat that I would name Winston. I don't really know why but this name has stuck to my head for quite a while now. Then if I close my eyes and concentrate enough, I can picture out someone by my side but the figure remains blurry and all I know is that I am happy; as I have never been before. I had come to the conclusion that it was Grace but now I am having doubts and it might be someone else."

She took a sip of her tea then put the mug down on the floor by her side. His confession had taken her aback then left her blank and disarmed, not knowing what to say. Her eyes fixed the flames dancing in the fireplace as she remained desperately quiet. Finally she was glad that he had sat down in her back. At least she didn't have to face him and deal with the heaviness of his gaze.

"I hoped for a long time that Michael was the right one. As a matter of fact, I had convinced myself that he was. Probably because nobody else had showed up or paid attention to me until then and this is how he got me, how it all started. I don't really regret it but perhaps my expectations were too big. I am the one who put an end to our relationship. Grace doesn't know. I have always said that he had dumped me. Isn't it odd how one day we realize that the person we had imagined to be the one doesn't turn out to be the other half we will spend the rest of our life with?"

"I have never married anyone for money..."

She hadn't meant to sound apologetic but her voice nonetheless adopted a tone of defense, a strong one. It made him laugh softly and she swallowed hard as his lips brushed the depths of her neck in a longer kiss.

"I know."

His hands abandoned her waist and slid on her stomach instead as he came closer to her back; his chest being warm against her own skin. Very slowly she leaned her head on his but remained focused on the fireplace in front of her. She felt like smoking, and drinking but they hadn't opened any bottle and the kitchen was too far from her reach. If she moved away, something would get broken; something a bit peculiar but that she didn't hate that much at the end, against all expectations. She wanted to stay there then see where it led.

"I don't have any dream anymore. I prefer it that way around, it is safer. Maybe not very conventional... But who cares? At least it doesn't hurt anymore when nothing happens to go towards happiness."

"Not even a cat named Winston?"

She laughed back lightly at his question, shook her head before raising her eyebrows with resignation.

"Nope, no cat or brownstone. Nothing at all."

She silently looked how his fingers got intertwined with hers and very soon he was caressing the palm of her hand with delicacy as if she were about to break down into pieces. Perhaps she had shocked him. After all she had been honest but way too frankly. She looked at her feet with discomfort, hoping that she hadn't disappointed him.

"What about children, have you renounced to them?"

An icy, invisible hand pressed her throat and she swallowed hard; restraining thus a gasp, unless it was a moan of stifled cries. They had never talked about that. Actually she had never confessed anything to anyone from her pregnancy scares to the series of negative results that constantly gave a bitter shade to her utopian hopes. Perhaps it was too late and that was all. She had missed out her chance if she were to have one in the first place.

"Who told you that I wanted to be a mother? As if I were made to have children... Look at me. Look at my cigarettes and endless drinks. Look at all of this. Obviously maternity never got to be a part of me."

Will remained quiet for long seconds and for a while she assumed that he had turned the page, drawn a line under his bold remark. She began to relax against him until his voice hit the air again, hurting her hard.

"There are some times when you can't lie, when it doesn't work out. Don't take it bad, on the contrary... This is what I like about you, Karen. You are just like anyone at the end, just like me. And just as it seemed clear to me that you hadn't married Stanley for money, I can also say that you have always had in mind the idea of having a baby."

She bit the inside of her mouth to control her anger, a strong frustration boiling in her veins. She hated it when people were so right about her own persona, her own silent dreams.


	11. Isolation

**Isolation (1970)**

_**People say we got it made**_

_**Don't they know we're so afraid?**_

_**Isolation**_

_**We're afraid to be alone**_

_**Everybody got to have a home**_

_**Isolation**_

She loved drinking cheap wine, not for the bad taste it left on her tongue but because it made the world fuzzy; sweet like the cotton candy her father used to buy at some annual fair when she was barely three. Only a few glasses resulted enough before the sentiment of floating above her own life kicked in and then she felt so light, so far from all the rest that most of the times, she had wished nothing but to never come back, simply remain there among clouds of memories and happy faces no mattered it was just an ocean of artificial shades.

The warmth of his lips contrasted sharply with the latent coldness of the bottle she had just taken a sip from. He was alive. The remark might have sounded ridiculous enough but it always stuck to her head like an old, reassuring lullaby that someone would sing to a child. He had turned into a reference in her upside down existence and the veil of invisibility that had embraced her previous relationships seemed to have completely disappeared, suddenly.

Passing her legs around his waist, she abandoned herself to the kiss and let Will lay down on her slowly as the trailers of the movie they had been watching on television appeared on the screen. His lips made it to her jaw while his hand slid under her silk top _ caressing her stomach suggestively _ and she drew a line under all the rest; how they were at his place in the television area and anyone could walk in on them, at any moment.

On the contrary, she grabbed the remote control and turned off the television then smiled as a complete darkness suddenly surrounded them. The effects of the cheap wine on her intoxicated mind seemed to rock her peacefully while Will's bold caresses aroused her more and more.

They hadn't planned it at all. Jack had simply canceled their evening and she had found herself alone with Will; Grace being on a date with a guy she had met the previous week. They could have gone to her place then evolved with a complete freedom as they used to but the cheap bottle of wine they had opened had gone to their head faster than what they had imagined and all of a sudden they had begun to kiss, giggling somewhere in between as the movie they had put on had literally played for nobody.

His lips reached her lower stomach and she closed her eyes, swallowing back a moan but squeezing his waist tighter, passing a hand through his hair. A kiss per inch of skin, traveling up her chest towards her breasts.

The sound resulted quiet enough but it nonetheless made her jump then freeze _ just like Will _ and a bit panicked, she looked for his eyes in the dark. A few steps away from them, Grace had opened the door and stepped in, obviously not alone though. The scene might have actually lasted less than five seconds but a thousand scenarios rushed to Karen's head all along; from the chance they had had to turn the lights off to watch the movie to Grace's reaction if she happened to find them in such position on a couch, half-naked.

"No, don't turn the lights on. We might wake up my roommate. He is probably sleeping now..."

If she had sobered immediately before Grace's unexpected return, Will was obviously still tipsy and let escape a stifled giggle at the mention of his name. Instinctively she put her hand on his mouth, shook her head vehemently and waited until their friend had finally retreated to her bedroom with her date to finally sit up on the couch, straightening her clothes.

"Damn..."

The whisper she let escape was a shaking one with an ounce of sadness, perhaps; but no guilt when she should have. She swept the bitter realization away and stood up to head to the door then leave.

Will grabbed her hand, forcing her to turn around to face him. His eyes were glimmering in the dark; he looked sorry, somehow.

"Stay with me."

She might have opened her mouth to reply but the words never came out, just like the motion of her head towards Grace's bedroom that only died in a long stare of the door a few feet away. A couple of seconds passed by and as she looked down at her feet, she knew that she would agree to stay with him.

She did, carried by remorse and her incapacity to resist the warmth of his body _ the smell of his skin on hers _ and the way he sighed on her neck, stealing kisses from her all along. But she quickly got up and dressed then, barely exchanging two whispers with him. Leaving on her tiptoes, she only allowed herself to catch up her breath when the doors of the elevator closed in front of her.

If the side-effects of the cheap bottle of wine hadn't completely vanished with Grace's arrival, the cold breeze hitting her face as she stepped out on the sidewalk did. She hailed a cab, observed Riverside Drive blankly by the window as tears were welling upino her eyes.

She hated it. Leaving in the middle of the night in the most complete silence to avoid crossing anyone was something she would never get used to. Perhaps things were changing _ evolving _ and she would have liked to spend more time with Will. After all, what kind of person didn't want to spend more time with the one who made you feel alive? But as she passed the door of her own apartment a few minutes later, it was clear that after the events of the night, her relation with Will would always remain in the dark. And she felt lonely, all of a sudden; lonely and trapped.


	12. Nobody Told Me

**Nobody Told Me (1980)**

_**Everybody's crying and no one makes a sound**_

_**There's a place for us in movies you just gotta stay around**_

_**Nobody told me there'd be days like these**_

_**Strange days indeed, strange days indeed**_

The sun might have been high in the sky, she was desperately cold inside and kept on shivering as she crossed Central Park. Perhaps she should have just gone home _ had a rest _ but the trees had showed up and she had preferred to walk instead. She needed to feel the breeze on her face, the light of the day sliding softly on the grass and the rumors of the traffic in the background; all these elements that would make her understand that she was still alive because if she had had to stop then observe her existence, it would have looked pointless now.

A wall of bricks; she had rushed onto it with the violence of innocence, the lightness of quiet dreams. It had hit her without any warning but she hadn't fallen down; simply let herself disappear in an ocean of regrets and incomprehension. Maybe she deserved it all at the end. She had been uncertain for too long and now it was too late.

Her legs suddenly refused to carry her any further and she sat down on a bench, in the sun. She would not go back to the office as planned. She didn't want to see Grace and even less have a chance to cross Will there. She had never been a lonely person but all of a sudden, it sounded better than all the rest. A few seconds flew away before she realized that she had sat down next to someone and as she turned around she came face-to-face with a toddler giggling in his mother's arms. She didn't smile at the little boy just kept on observing the features of his face and the way his hands were clutched to the adult's arms as if it was a matter of death or life.

"What is his name?"

Her own question surprised her but she tried to hide it and smiled at the perfect stranger, a bit ashamed though. She had always hated people who started conversations out of the blank yet letting you imagine that you had been knowing them since forever.

"Jacob, his name is Jacob. He turned sixteen months last week."

Thankfully the woman seemed glad to reply, giving her a bright smile while planting a kiss on the top of her son's head. In the logic of the conversation, Karen should have talked to the toddler with one of those ridiculous tones she couldn't stand but she found herself unable to do so and began to look for a couple of words to add, in vain. The woman probably sensed her sudden discomfort and kept on talking instead, with such a lightness that Karen couldn't help feeling jealous suddenly.

And sad, immensely sad to not be the same kind of woman.

"His sister used to love coming here when she started walking. Actually she made her first steps a bit further, near the bandstand. So I assumed that Jacob would love it as well. And he does... All the kids love going to Central Park, even more in the first days of the summer."

"Yes, that is true. My step children always wanted to come here with their nanny or myself at times but I was too busy."

And now she regretted it bitterly. She had missed out everything.

"I assume they are too old for it, now; just like my daughter..."

"Yes, somehow. I mean I suppose so or anyway I wouldn't be the one going out with them now. I am divorced. I don't see them that much anymore."

"Then maybe in a while you will bring here your own child. I divorced twice before getting pregnant so we never know."

The honesty of the smile hurt her even more and before she had time to realize it, the words had come out.

"I can't have children."

Perhaps she should have added that she had just found out about it _ barely an hour ago now _ and tried to reassure her interlocutor when she was obviously the one who needed someone by her side but instead she shrugged; smiled almost apologetically before staring back at the line of trees on the other side of the path.

They didn't talk anymore, as if her sudden confession had pushed her out of a sphere that only mothers would ever belong to unless she had simply made the other woman uncomfortable; sorry and yet a bit disarmed, feeling stupid as well somehow.

She left a few minutes later unless a whole hour had passed by, she wouldn't have been able to say. As the words had come up _ hitting the air, burning her lips _ everything seemed even clearer and it hurt a lot more than it had done until now. She wouldn't have imagined that she would be able to say it all so quickly, even less to a perfect stranger. The downfall might have been total though life kept on being surprising; a tad bitterly, maybe.

She came back home and went straight to bed, exhausted for absolutely no reason but the fact she had just lost a couple of dreams and the truth was that it was tough, tougher than she had imagined. Her cell phone suddenly vibrated on the nightstand. Slowly enough she rolled on her side and grabbed it before opening the message sent by Will.

_I can't come tonight_

_I have to work on some files_

_Sorry_

Since the night she had spent at his place, something had happened between the two of them. It was all implicit but clear enough to let them understand that he was taking some distance; disappointed maybe, unless he had just grown tired of her. But still... She sent him back a quick reply, too polite to sound honest and as she looked around at the room _ the apartment plunged in the dark _ Karen realized that she might not have wanted to be that lonely as a matter of fact.


	13. Watching the Wheels

**Watching the Wheels (1980)**

_**I'm just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round**_

_**I really love to watch them roll**_

_**No longer riding the merry-go-round**_

_**I just had to let it go**_

A cigarette in one hand and a glass of Martini in the other, she looked at the world turning around with a sentiment of lonely confusion; as if she had been left there among a crowd, invisible to people's eyes. Retrospectively, she wouldn't have imagined that she would come to this point because of an aspect of her life breaking down into pieces a bit suddenly, something she had remained uncertain about for such long years besides. It was all in the loss and how the perspective of knowing that she had to draw a line definitely over a potential maternity brought a very different shade to her days; not necessarily a bitter one but a bit darker, perhaps.

At least alcohol had the credits to blurry something that most of people would have seen as immensely sad and since she remained quiet over it, she almost felt fine; or looked so which was already in itself a daily challenge. Though it worked pretty well because nobody seemed to notice her latent pain.

"I don't like it when you drink so much."

Jack's remark took her out of her blank daydreams and a bit reluctantly she abandoned the observation of the buildings in the night. She turned around to lock her eyes into her friend's ones but Will appeared in the background, inside the apartment, tidying up a few plates and obviously talking to Grace.

After a period of cancellations from both sides, they were seeing each other again as if actually nothing had happened. A matter of sex, no sentiment whatsoever involved; she might have wished for a whole different turnout but their relation was obviously following this path and she accepted it a bit resigned.

"How come, honey? You have always known me like that... And until now you didn't seem to care that much."

Jack shrugged and made a few steps towards her, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He looked bothered to say the least, worried perhaps. She swallowed hard, and frowned. She didn't want to see people who counted the most in her life be sad or hurt. Oddly enough if it seemed alright for her own persona, the idea was unbearable when it came to them. Maybe she simply had more respect for her friends than for herself at the end.

"It didn't bring this ounce of distress in your eyes by then. Now it does and that... I don't like it at all."

"I am doing perfectly fine, Jack. Don't be worried."

"He dumped you, didn't he?"

"Whom are you talking about?"

If she had tried to sound as light as possible until then, his question took her completely aback and she panicked; her voice lowering dangerously.

"The person you were dating. The one you never introduced us or even mentioned as a matter of fact. I don't understand your reaction, to be honest. You know that you can trust us so why do you remain so quiet?"

"Maybe because I wasn't dating anyone but yet your boundless imagination refused to admit that."

She didn't convince him at all. As a matter of fact, she wouldn't have convinced herself if she had had to so she drowned her failure in a long sip of vodka. The alcohol didn't burn her throat anymore. If at some point the hard sensation had made her feel alive, now the tasteless result only proved she might have simply died.

"I don't believe you and I know that I am right. You might think that you are a big mystery to us when you are actually so easy to read through; at least at times. It is just that most of people don't dare to be honest with you. That's why I am. And that's why I can say that you are suffering now."

She let a few seconds pass by which she regretted immediately because it only managed to emphasize her own despair before a truth she couldn't stand. She locked her eyes with Jack's blue ones but couldn't bear it long enough and irremediably, she ended up looking at Will in the background.

"I am not suffering but healing, from my divorce with Stanley. And it just takes time but I can assure you that I am doing fine."

"You are too passive, Kare... Just sitting there, waiting for it to fade away with the passing of time. You have to go for things, be the one who makes plans and controls them from the beginning to the end. Or you will still be here when realizing it is too late. I love you more than anyone and I don't want you to remain in dark thoughts like this. It breaks my heart."

In an odd synchronization, as Jack finished his sentence Will turned around and looked at her by the open French window. He smiled, winced. It might have sounded incomprehensible for anyone but all of a sudden these two bare gestures warmed up her heart. Perhaps their relationship was unbalanced and wouldn't lead to anything but a dead-end path but the truth was that she felt fine with Will, safe. And it was all she needed at the end.

"You see, honey, if there is one thing that still belongs to me after all these years, it is my life and there isn't a single person on this planet who has a right over it but me. So don't tell me how to lead it. I get and actually appreciate you being worried but please, believe me, I am doing just fine by myself. And yet doing my best..."


	14. Imagine

**Imagine (1971)**

_**You may say that I'm a dreamer**_

_**But I'm not the only one**_

_**I hope some day you'll join us**_

_**And the world will be as one**_

The spoon began another spin as the white sugar finally disappeared through a black whirl in the depths of the coffee cup, causing thus a metallic sound as the silver item hit the ceramic edge. Chin against the palm of her hand, she stared at the beverage with a delicate concentration and yet a total indifference as if she were resigned, tired of everything and nothing at the same time.

She could see his own hand on the other side of the table, how his fingers seemed clutched to a napkin he had grabbed when sitting down a few minutes earlier. He had looked nervous, and impatient as he had passed the door to join her at the table. She was bothering him _ obviously enough _ and it didn't make it all any easier.

"As a matter of fact, he never asked me to marry him. He simply stopped by one day and threw a "let's get married" before putting his jacket on and telling me to hurry up if I didn't want to be late. I guess we had bought some opera tickets... Isn't it weird that I don't even remember this moment perfectly when it is supposed to be one of the most important of my life?"

She took a sip of her coffee and made a face. It had a bitter taste, in spite of the extra sugar she had put in it. But what struck her the most and made her cheeks redden actually resulted to be the way she had begun her sentence. What kind of person started a conversation with some "as a matter of fact" while nothing had been previously said at all? Will didn't pay that much attention to her awkwardness though and he simply sighed, a bit disarmed.

"I mean... He had assumed that I would agree _ which was true _ but still, it sounds wrong now that I think about it; as if yet by then he didn't care that much about my opinion, as if anyway he would be the one taking decisions. Another sign Stanley and I weren't meant for each other."

"Indeed."

The coldness of his tone and the way he passed a hand through his hair _ sighing loudly _ stirred up a latent discomfort in her mind and she began to look around, desperate and panicked.

Perhaps she shouldn't have called him. Perhaps the scheme they had seemed to follow for quite a while now satisfied him and he was hoping for nothing else than this singular routine. But the problem came from her side. She couldn't stand the situation anymore. She needed a complete change, in one way or another because the anonymity of their affair dragged her down little by little and she felt guilty.

"The thing is that I didn't know what I wanted by then. I was lusting for some bright dream that stayed in a blurry light at the end and I never reached it. So every time I convinced myself that major changes would lead me to this state of near perfection I was seeking. Of course I only got disillusions at the end. Not that I am the only one but... I don't want to live that again. I am too old for this, too tired as well."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

His question took her completely aback and as she felt her heart slow down dangerously, she knew that she might have just lost him.

"Is this what you would like me to do?"

His self-confidence was intimidating and her own question sounded completely ridiculous, childish at the most when the situation was obviously serious.

She looked at him frown, shake his head before rolling his eyes in a clear motion of exasperation and all of a sudden, she wished she could have cried, let go of everything no mattered the consequences.

"Karen, you just told me that you didn't want anyone to take a decision for you so why are you asking me to actually do that? It doesn't make sense!"

"The truth is that I want the exact opposite. I like being with you... I like it a lot."

"Kare..."

She stopped his regretful tone with a hand in the air. She didn't want to hear it, didn't want to face it; at no moment. Because she would never be ready for a demise coming from Will. He meant too much if not everything.

"I don't have any promise to offer you _ any special plan _ but I want to see where it could lead and if we are not damaging everything or wasting time for remaining in the shadows like that. I want people to know that I am with you. I want to assume it all and stop hiding like that behaind a wall of lies. Because I can't stand anymore what we are going through. I can't. I am sorry but I need a change, now. Or..."

"It is an ultimatum, isn't it?"

She didn't reply, just took a sip of her coffee. It was cold, now. Cold and bitter, just like her soul. Long seconds passed by during which she regretted it all. For once she had found the courage to be honest, lies sounded more reassuring; wiser as well.

"What about Grace? What about Jack? Be rational, Karen."

But that was the problem. As much as she had tried throughout her life to listen to her mind _ making wise choices that would brighten the taken path _ she had kept on failing and feeling bad. It wasn't her fault if she didn't like logic and its rigid rules.

She was a dreamer at heart and would always be like that.


	15. Mind Games

**Mind Games (1973)**

_**So keep on playing those mind games together**_

_**Faith in the future out of the now**_

_**You just can't beat on those mind guerillas**_

_**Absolutely elsewhere in the stones of your mind**_

_**Yeah we're playing those mind games together**_

_**Projecting our images in space and time**_

"Will is seeing someone."

For a few seconds she observed the water run on her hands then swallowed hard before looking up in the mirror. Grace was standing behind, leaned against the door frame. She seemed calm and determined as if she had been thinking about the words she would use at this exact moment over and over.

"He told you so?"

She never imagined that he had finally taken the decision to confess it all to Grace. Several weeks had passed by since she had thrown in the middle of their routine some sort of ultimatum supposed to put an end to the constant heaviness on her chest; a latent guilt that had spread quietly.

She hadn't seen him for a couple of days and as if nothing had happened, he had suddenly stopped by her place again and they had ended up in bed. From then on she had understood that her request would remain vain, unanswered. And incapable to ever imagine her life without him, she had abdicated; bitter.

"Somehow. He let me understand a couple of things, cowardly enough I must say. Before shrugging it off in frustration."

Clutched to the counter, she stopped the water and grabbed a towel to dry her hands; looking down to avoid Grace's gaze. She wouldn't have known what to say, spill it out _ and take the risk to ruin all the rest _ or lie as she was so used to now. The choice of silence seemed wiser if not pure cowardice.

"I hate when he doesn't tell me the truth. He would advance that it is to protect me but at the end, I only feel hurt because he doesn't trust me; in spite of the strength of our friendship. It is a betrayal that kills me. Do you understand?"

Jack's laughter pierced in the background, very soon followed by Will's. The burst of joy offered an odd contrast to the heavy silence floating above the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, Karen turned around to look at her friend. Grace had to know something if not everything or she wouldn't have joined her there to make such an implicit, meaningful remark. Perhaps they hadn't been careful enough and had brought up weak alibis that had done nothing but put the light over their lies.

"I do."

They didn't allude to it anymore. Grace nodded before heading back to the living-room for the rest of the evening. And if Karen would do alike, she would nonetheless look nervous; drinking and smoking more than what she used to.

…

"What was your biggest dream?"

"How come 'was'?"

She responded to his hand through her hair by a kiss on his shoulder blade before leaning up to look at him in the eyes. She loved those moments when nothing seemed to be important anymore but the way his gaze sparkle as he smiled; in her arms, under the warm blanket of her bed. She wished she could have spent her whole life there with him and eventually looked by the window how the years would have gone by, taken away by the cyclical _ reassuring _ weather.

"I don't want to have any regret..."

"Nobody does and yet we all have some. Now tell me about it, your biggest dream."

"Alright..."

His eyes seemed to get lost in the contemplation of the wall opposite the bed but all of a sudden, as he frowned and a veil of darkness spread over the serenity of his gaze, she knew that he would be honest; perhaps too much, as a matter of fact.

"A child... I would have loved having a child."

The word oppressed her throat with violence. She swallowed back the cries that hadn't come up for a long time and somehow managed to find the strength to smile lightly.

"It isn't too late. You still can be a father."

He didn't reply, only looked down at his hands as if lost in his thoughts; a couple of bitter regrets that had made it to his mind way before that night. Once he had mentioned the plan Grace and him had had and how she would carry his child, their child. Now she thought about it in his arms that night, Karen realized that yet by then he had sounded disillusioned and sad. As if this project had always been some mere utopia.

"And you, what kind of dream you used to have?"

"Well..."

She had hoped _ a bit absurdly _ that he wouldn't ask, that her eventual reply wouldn't interest him and she wouldn't have to talk about herself even if it were unfair since she had pushed him to do so a few minutes before.

"I wish I had had a normal life, from the very beginning."

He must have felt the despair in her voice because as soon as she finished her sentence, he tightened his embrace and planted a kiss on her temple, protectively. But the truth was that she wished a lot of things, starting with him; no mattered all the rest. It was all about Will.


	16. Love

**Love (1970)**

_**Love is you**_

_**You and Me**_

_**Love is knowing**_

_**We can be**_

He had never been a rebound. She might, indeed, have been looking for someone's presence by her side to get reassured or even feel alive but at no moment she had seen in him a mere compensation over her failed marriage to Stanley. It had come up little by little, this sentiment that all of a sudden seemed too clear and she couldn't live without him anymore. From his smiles to the way his voice sounded in the evening, she had grown addicted to Will; oddly enough if she had been asked about.

"I love you."

She whispered the words against his nape, her lips brushing his skin in a soft, almost timid motion. But she didn't blush, didn't regret anything of what she had said. She was being honest and it was all what mattered then.

Very slowly her hands traveled down his back and she leaned her head there, somewhere against one of his shoulders then closed her eyes peacefully. Perhaps he smiled _ tried to look at her, turning his head around _ but all she would keep in mind would be the warmth of his hand on hers, how tight he would press it before planting a kiss on one of her fingers.

The summer hadn't swept away their lies, on the contrary. As the long days of August began to melt in the melancholic sky of September, her request _ so-called ultimatum _ seemed to vanish before another kind of shapes, the ones of reality, and they settled down like this; a bit resigned maybe but at peace. He stopped by twice a week or took her away for a few days and before they had time to notice it, they were back in the anonymity of their Manhattan life; as if nothing had happened and it would always be like that.

"You know, it is not that I don't want..."

"No, don't say anything. Not now. Never, actually."

Her hand covered his mouth to prevent the words from coming out, from saying things she didn't want to hear out loud. Not that it wasn't the moment because if she had had to be honest, it would never be the right time. She planted a kiss on his neck, held him tight.

"It is fine."

And it was, more or less somehow. For days she had wondered if Grace had actually known for Will and her or if her remark in the bathroom had been pure coincidence but it had seemed too big to be one and she had come to the conclusion that they just couldn't and would always remain in the dark. Maybe Grace didn't mind if they didn't show any sign of intimacy in public and it was all she was asking for. It sounded unfair yet comprehensible and the truth was that she had never alluded to it anymore after the private little talk as if the chapter had been closed once and for all.

Feeling him move against her, she let him do as he turned around to finally face her. His hand brushed her cheek, came to settle under her chin forcing her to look up at him thus. He was smiling, making his brown eyes sparkle softly. She went for his lips in a tender kiss before locking her eyes with his.

"It is complicated, isn't it?"

She frowned before what sounded more like a statement than a question and let a few seconds pass by. Something hurt in her throat _ probably a wave of tears asking for nothing but to come out _ and just to avoid these cries, she preferred to shrug and sigh.

"It is delicate."

But not impossible. Perhaps it was a matter of time and little by little Grace and Jack would accept the facts that seemed evident now. Perhaps one day she would be able to walk by his side, holding his hand without coming up with any lie. And it would be alright, for everyone.

She liked to believe that it was just that, a simple matter of time.

"Will you stay the whole night?"

He would, he always did when she asked him to do so. At this exact moment he stopped being the Will everyone got to know only to become the one she had fallen for. He wasn't the same anymore and that at such a point that sometimes she could hardly recognize him when with Grace and Jack. By then she simply observed him with some distance, trying to read through his attitude and the words he used. His mask was a thick one just as hers was and at the end she came to the conclusion that the situation might be better like that. After all seeing him in private meant that she didn't have to deal with the behavior he adopted in public _ a complete different one _ and vice-versa.

She was in love with the real Will, the one who didn't wear a mask and let his insecurities appear when in her arms or by her side. And perhaps one day the whole world would get to know about that.

"I love you, Kare..."

Their couple was improbable and would always be, from the very beginning to the end; no mattered the way it would turn out to be, the path they would take.

She captured his lips in a kiss, a soft one as if she was afraid to break it all into pieces.

She didn't hold hopes over a better tomorrow for yet feeling fine and serene in his arms. It was just a matter of light upon their hearts and how she would be able to express her love for him in front of anyone. And be happy for the rest of her life.

A sort of double fantasy, somehow.


End file.
